


A Mine o' Diamonds

by kailthia



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, balin is quietly a bamf, family stuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kailthia/pseuds/kailthia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the importance of mine safety is reinforced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mine o' Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



> So there new art for Determamfidd's Sansukh's Little Balin, Wee Thorin, Frerin & Gimizh basically crawled in my head and made this come out?

Bofur cornered him as he left the soldiers’ mess hall after finishing the monthly inspection of the barracks. Dwalin was immediately concerned – Bofur was unusually serious, never a good sign, and the way his middle son tagged along behind the miner, all wide-eyed confusion, did not bode well. Dwalin sighed. Little Balin’s indomitable curiosity and single-mindedness would be a great help in future craft endeavors, but it was becoming something of a problem for his parents. In proper Dwarven tradition, the lad simply did not know when to _stop_ , and his focus meant that the safety and wellbeing of anyone in the vicinity of the object of his curiosity was often seriously reduced.

This provided an additional challenge for his parents. Fortunately, Balin could often be found in the company of a (mostly)-responsible adult or that of his companions in crime, Wee Thorin and Gimizh. Frerin was also beginning to take a larger role in their activities now that he had reached an age at which he could move under his own power most of the time. Having the children all together meant that they could feed off of each others’ energy and talk each other out of the worst of their ideas. Sometimes, however, this backfired spectacularly, and the boys would come up with frankly astounding plots that had the sticky fingerprints of several dwarflings all over them. Dwalin shuddered at the memory of last year’s Tea Biscuit Incident, then turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

He motioned for Bofur and Balin to accompany him to his office; they did so in uncharacteristic silence. As soon as they arrived, Balin climbed into his lap, clearly near tears. Dwalin held his son close, murmuring comforting words as Balin slowly calmed. After Balin’s shaking had stopped and he was only snuffling occasionally, Dwalin looked up at Bofur.

“What happened?”

“You know that new diamond mine we just opened up on the south-east corner?” asked Bofur at his blandest. “The one that was s’pposed to pay for our food supplies for the next century or two?”

“Supposed to? What’r’you telling me?” Dwalin was getting seriously concerned. While he hadn’t heard any of the noise that heralded a major mine collapse, the new diamond mine was still shallow enough to not be too noisy if it went. Bofur’s use of the past tense was also suspicious.     

Bofur cleared his throat. “It’s been shut down. Permanently. Because of this little one.”

Dwalin went perfectly still, Balin letting out a choked sob in his arms, clutching to his oversized scarf and his father’s beard. “Explain.”

Bofur took a seat across from Dwalin’s desk and began wringing his hat in his hands. “I took Gimizh over to the new mine this morning to see how a start-up works, and Wee Thorin and Balin came along for the ride.” Dwalin nodded; it was traditional for children to be exposed to many crafts so that they could have a decent idea of the running of the Mountain and hopefully find out what their craft was. And Gimizh was hardly ever far from his sons.

“Well, I was showing them how to test for faults on one of the small problem areas near the initial cut we keep for this sort of example when this one” – Bofur gestured towards Balin – “says there’s something seriously wrong with the section of fault he’s kicking. I give it a go, it feels different than it did when I helped okay the mine three weeks ago. Bad different. I get some of the prospectors to come and check it out, and they tell me if I don’t stop work immediately, the whole thing comes crashing down within the year because of a big fault sitting on top of the entrance.”

“So you shut it down, just like that?” Dwalin didn’t quite manage to keep the amazement out of his voice. To simply shut down a mine, a new mine, a profitable mine, was almost unthinkable. The fault in the rock must have been severe. This led to a disturbing train of thought.

“Why didn’t your people notice this fault sooner?” he asked worriedly. “Why did my not-quite-twenty-year-old son have to tell you that your mine was going to collapse?”

Bofur shrugged. “It was a hidden fault, and my best prospectors have been out for a while – they’re a family group, and the eldest daughter just had a baby.”

Dwalin looked at Bofur in disbelief. “Then why in the Makers’ name did you open the mine? You could have waited.”

Now Bofur showed his nerves, his voice cracking. “Because I had seven other prospectors look at it, and they all said it was _fine_! If you little lad hadn’t felt the fault and stood firm until I listened, people would’ve died, Dwalin! The entrance would have blown and when we tried to dig it out the whole thing would have caved in like a dud sandcast-” Bofur was yelling by the end, but stopped as a gesture from Dwalin cut him short – the noise was clearly doing Balin no favors. Dwalin cooed soothingly, rubbing Balin’s back as he rubbed his face into his father’s beard. He gave Bofur a look which had made Orcs reconsider taking him on in the past.

“Was that tone really necessary, Bofur?”

Abashed, Bofur replied, “No. Sorry, Dwalin. Sorry, lad.”

Dwalin nodded, and when Balin was not forthcoming, poked his son gently in the ribs. A quiet “’Pology ’ccepted, Mister Bofur. No more yelling, please,” came out from the general vicinity of the collar of Dwalin’s coat. It would do. Dwalin looked back at Bofur.

“Have you told Dáin about the mine yet?” When Bofur shook his head, Dwalin stood and gave the obviously shaken miner a push towards the door. “It’d be a good idea to go do that, then, eh? You have to go explain why we’re not getting any diamonds out o’that mine after all.”

Bofur sighed, but went. “That’ll be fun.” He took a sharp turn as he left Dwalin’s office, waving dejectedly as he went, hat in hand. “Wish me luck!”

Dwalin went back in, taking a good look at his second born. Balin was a right mess – face blotchy from tears and fear, clothes mussed and with an unusually large amount of dirt and stains (which was bad; usually Balin kept his clothes _scrupulously_ clean), and the knee ripped off of one of his bright red trousers.

“Let’s get you home, eh, laddie? A bath and a spot o’lunch’d make the world of difference, wouldn’t’ you think?”

As Balin nodded, Dwalin swept him up and left his office, heading towards his family’s quarters. Balin was usually fiercely independent, but this morning’s scare had made him clingy; Dwalin didn’t mind; he could do with some reassuring right then, too. They stopped by the training ground on their way, so Dwalin could tell Orla that he would be late for the afternoon drills. She looked them over, mouth twitching, an eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

“Don’t you two look like a mine full of diamonds! What happened?”

Dwalin had frantically given her the parental signal for “don’t-go-there” as soon as he was able, but it was too late. Balin’s slightly hysterical giggles didn’t stop him from choking out, “I look better than Uncle Bofur’s diamond mine, Mama!”, a statement which left Dwalin laughing and Orla mystified until her husband and her son had calmed down enough to explain. Once they had, she had swept Balin up into her arms, held him close, and whispered “My brave boy” in his ear. Then she handed him back, sent Dwalin off, and proceeded to continue disabusing the newest recruits of the notion that motherhood had made her soft.     


End file.
